


hypocrisy in the air

by ignitesthestars



Series: a strange kind of redemption [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Face Punching, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: The first thing Percy thinks when he sees Annabeth standing in Luke Castellan’s doorway is,oh. Because her hair is rumpled and falling over her face, and her shirt is like three sizes too big and slipping off one shoulder, and she looks relaxed in a way he can’t quite put his finger on, but hasn’t seen from her in too long.She’s gorgeous, some part of him sighs wistfully, as the rest of him realises that she’s staring at him in horror, and starts to put the pieces together in a different fashion.





	hypocrisy in the air

The first thing Percy thinks when he sees Annabeth standing in Luke Castellan’s doorway is, _oh_. Because her hair is rumpled and falling over her face, and her shirt is like three sizes too big and slipping off one shoulder, and she looks _relaxed_ in a way he can’t quite put his finger on, but hasn’t seen from her in too long.

She’s gorgeous, some part of him sighs wistfully, as the rest of him realises that she’s staring at him in horror, and starts to put the pieces together in a different fashion.

“Morning Percy,” she mumbles, ducking her head as she clutters down the stairs. Their shoulders brush when she passes him, and he thinks that she almost stops, half-turning towards him.

But then she’s gone and he’s left staring after her back and wondering what the fuck just happened.

 _You’re being paranoid_ , his brain supplies helpfully. _There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this, you just haven’t had enough breakfast to figure it out yet._

“Sorry,” a voice says from behind him. “Would’ve warned you I had company, but you know Iris. She’s not exactly a fan of me these days.”

“Who is?” Percy snaps, resolving to put the whole incident out of his head. He’s not Annabeth’s keeper, he doesn’t control where she - okay, Luke isn’t wearing a shirt, and even from this distance Percy can see the red marks on his shoulder.

The speed at which anger takes over his body sort of takes him by surprise. One second, he’s a little bemused at the appearance of Annabeth where he hadn’t been expecting to see her. The next, he’s fucking _furious,_ charging up the steps. There’s no finesse to the way he shoves Luke up against his own front door, just brute strength and his arm against the other man’s throat.

Percy has a bare inch on him in height, and it’s never been so satisfying.

“ _What did you do?_ ”

There’s a light in Luke’s eyes that he doesn’t understand as he regards him, the corner of his mouth curving up into his scar. He seems remarkably unconcerned by having the son of Poseidon shoving him up against a door, but Luke makes a habit of getting under Percy’s skin by disregarding him. Percy grits his teeth, determined to not let it work this time. 

“Are you sure you want the details, Seaweed Brain?”

“Don't c--” Okay, one point to Luke. He takes a breath, forces himself to ease back. “Tell me she's fine, Luke.”

“Believe it or not, I'm not in charge of her mental state.”

“ _Luke.”_

“ _Percy._ ” He lifts his jaw over the pressure of Percy’s forearm, and it occurs to Percy that he's not even a little bit in control here. “We had sex. It was her idea. She stayed the night.”

Percy punches him.

He'll feel bad about it later. Not because punching Luke isn't satisfying (it is), but because it's an asshole move and he's been doing his utmost to _not_ be an asshole. Anger is a tide in his veins these days, pulling out but always sweeping back in again.

In the moment, though - in the moment Luke's head snaps to the side, breaking a dry chuckle loose. His tongue darts out, licking at the hint of blood in the corner of mouth and he looks back at Percy with the eyes off a man who’s been _waiting_ for this.

“Feel better?” He doesn't shift from the door, makes no move to hit Percy back. 

It's not going the way he thought it would. They’ve hit each other before, under various guises. Not as much lately, with Tartarus taking its rightful place as a nightmare instead of haunting him and Annabeth both, but still. They find excuses, brawl, beat the crap out of each other and come away feeling…

Something. Not this, when they’ve barely gotten started but it feels like Luke’s already won.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Luke says idly. He checks his jaw with two fingers, winces a little. “Gotta say, I never took you for a coward.”

“I can hit you again, if you like.”

“Hey, whatever makes you feel better. That’s not what I was talking about, though.”

Annabeth hadn’t even tried to explain.Sure, it was awkward, but she hadn’t even hesitated. Just - _hi Percy -_ and then she was gone. Leaving him with this, Luke, if he was telling the truth (and Percy didn’t think that the older man’s ego would let him lie about something like this).

He hadn’t realised that their relationship had gotten to the point where she would do something like this, and he’d be so blindsided by it.

They were supposed to be best friends.

“She’s all right, then?” he asks tonelessly, not meeting Luke’s eyes.

The other man leans in. His breath is warm as it brushes over Percy’s cheek, and they’re both vibrating with some kind of restrained energy. Maybe he should hit him again. “Ask her yourself.”

Percy’s fingers curl in on themselves. He rolls his neck, barely missing make contact with Luke’s face. “I’m asking you.”

“This is what makes you a coward.” Luke steps back, looking satisfied despite the red mark blooming over his cheek. Percy thinks he might have bitten the inside of his cheek. “You jump into Tartarus after a girl, but you can’t even have a conversation with her? Half the world knows you two are insane for each other, but you never made a move. Not that Annabeth’s the sort of girl you can call dibs on, but you missed your chance.”

“So you just had to swoop on in there, huh?”

“I didn’t swoop anywhere. How hard is your head? I told you, it was her idea. _She_ came to _me_.”

Percy would like to say that he realised he needed to be the bigger person here and walk away. He’d like to say that Luke didn’t end up with a matching mark on the right side of his face because Percy recalled his maturity and resisted the urge to make an attempt.

Unfortunately, Percy decides to hit him again, because he’s no wrong, and it’s hard to punch yourself in the face which is probably what he _really_ wants to do. But the punch never lands because Luke is fast like Annabeth is fast, and he’s got an iron grip on Percy’s wrist before he even realises that he hasn’t made contact. He _twists_ and a sharp pain jabs through his shoulder blade as his arm gets shoved up behind his back. 

“You get one freebie,” Luke growls into his ear, and it’s a whole different shudder that works down Percy’s spine that he’s going to put down to relief.

No more talking. Only violence, which he doesn’t have to feel guilty about, when he doesn’t have to consider that maybe Luke is right. He stomps on Luke’s instep (learned from a self-defense class he’d helped the Aphrodite girls with a few months ago) but that only prompts Luke to hold on harder. So he jerks his head back, slamming his skull into Luke’s nose and hearing the satisfying _crunch_ of cartilage and a wounded cry. Still Luke doesn’t let go, but it loosens his grip enough that Percy can pull free, panting, ready to just throw himself at the other man and just get it over with.

Luke starts forward for a second, and Percy almost thinks he recognises the wild thing in his eyes as violence rises in the air between them. But then the other man is just pinching the bridge of his nose, and it’s difficult to tell if he’s setting it back in place, or just fed up with the whole situation.

“You got anger issues, kid.”

“That’s _rich_.”

“Hypocrisy’s in the air right now.” He fumbles behind him for the door knob, pulls it down. Starts stepping inside, as something in Percy’s gut shrieks _no don’t go we’re not done here **we’re not done**._ “Piece of advice? Before you start getting all self righteous at Annabeth, you might want to think about telling her about di Angelo.”

“Stay the hell out of my business, Luke!”

“Aren’t you sticking your nose into mine?”

Luke pauses to raise his eyebrows at Percy over his hand, and then the door slams shut. Leaving Percy on the porch with a whole lot of anger, nowhere to put it, and the sinking feeling that Luke Castellan might actually be right for once.

 


End file.
